


protection

by mxrvel13



Series: Whumptober 2019 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxrvel13/pseuds/mxrvel13
Summary: John and Sherlock are in a shootout, and need to act fast.





	protection

**Author's Note:**

> TW for guns, violence, blood, and death
> 
> written for day four of whumptober for the prompt “human shield”

It was John who realised that the guns around them were definitely going to fire, no matter what they did. “Sherlock…” He muttered.

Sherlock glanced over at the clock. Mycroft’s men would storm the place in less than a minute, all they had to do was keep alive until then. “Just a few more seconds.” He replied.

“Sherlock-“ John said insistently. 

Sherlock heard a trigger engage, and he didn’t hesitate, leaping onto John and tackling him down behind a counter.

John cursed, but Sherlock stayed over him, a hailstorm of bullets raining around them. Mycroft’s men must have come in, because the men were now shouting and no one had simply come around the corner to shoot them yet.

It was only about half a minute before the gunfire ceased, but it felt like ages. Sherlock sat up on his hands, looking down at John. “Are you alright?”

John’s gaze caught on Sherlock’s leg. “You’re bleeding.”

Sherlock looked down, staring at the wound for a second. “It’s just a graze.” He said, grin returning. “As if I’d let something as trivial as a gunshot end me.”

John cracked a small laugh. It was short lived, though, because he heard an ominous creak, and his eyes found the chandelier over Sherlock’s shoulder. He barely had an instant to think his actions through, grabbing Sherlock and forcing him underneath him just as the chandelier fell.

Glass shattered around them, metal slamming to the ground with a crash that Sherlock could barely hear over the sound of his own heartbeat. “John?” He barely recognized his own voice, quiet and shaky and  _ scared _ . “John?”

“Sherlock!” That was Mycroft’s voice, and Sherlock had the capacity to realise that he needed to get his help.

“Here. Here!” Sherlock sounded desperate, even to his own ears. He couldn’t even bring himself to make a joke about Mycroft literally running around the corner, and stopping in his tracks.

“Oh, Sherlock…”

“Don’t just stand there, Mycroft! Help him!” Sherlock shouted.

Mycroft put his hands forward placatingly. “Ambulances are on the way, but we can’t move him. He may have a spinal injury.” Mycroft privately thought it would be a miracle if he didn’t, but he thought better than to say that out loud.

Sherlock had enough sense to realise that that was right, so he obediently stayed still. “John, love, can you hear me?” He asked.

There was no answer, but he could hear the sirens closing in. “John if you can hear me, you’re going to be just fine, alright? You’re strong, you’ve been through worse than this. You can make it.”

He continued talking to him, voice soft and trying desperately not to be scared. 

The paramedics got there, and unburied them both carefully, having to move agonizingly slowly. It felt like ages before they were able to get to them, an eternity of feeling John’s weight on him, completely immobile.

Sherlock watched them approach silently, stubbornly ignoring the way his bottom lip was shaking.

He saw them take John’s pulse, and nod to one another, and Sherlock let out a breath, eyes sliding shut in relief.

The paramedics hadn’t seen the blood pooling underneath his leg until John was off of him, smile on his face long since turned blue.


End file.
